


It Never Stops

by EverlivingGhosts



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Old Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:39:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverlivingGhosts/pseuds/EverlivingGhosts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice, the granddaughter of Karl from ATC, becomes lost after chasing her puppy through the streets of Fitton. She finds a kind old man living in a beautiful old house, but something seems wrong. What will she learn, and will the man ever be happy again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starlithorizon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlithorizon/gifts).



> Have you ever had an idea just hovering in your mind until you just had to write it down? I read Starlithorizon's excellent fic 'Six Small Plots", and it reminded me of something I've wanted to write for a while. So thank you, Starlithorizon, even though I'm not sure if this story will have the same sweetness and loveliness that your did, though I tried my best. Thank you so much for gifting me a story, and sorry to be so depressing, but this is one avenue of Skipthur I've not really explored before, so please enjoy and don't be too sad!
> 
> Also, I hate having to create original characters, but I had to create Alice for the sake of this story. I bet Karl would be an excellent grandfather, teasing and sarcastic (I'm using the 'K' spelling because that's apparently what the Finnemore used himself).

It was one of those rare sunny days in Fitton, the kind where the sky was blessedly free of clouds and a pleasant heat lingered in the usually murky grey streets. Many people were taking advantage of the sudden nice weather by going outside, causing the air to be filled with the sounds of laughing children and fussing adults, complaining about the heat but secretly glad to be out of the house for once.

On one of the streets the air was rent with the sound of a yapping dog clashing loudly with the shouts of a child as a ten year old girl in light blue dungarees chased a puppy down the street. Her name was Alice and she had just been playing in the garden of her Grandad Karl's house when the energetic little dog had noticed that she had accidentally left the gate open. Wasting no time, he raced towards freedom.  

Alice loved her little puppy, Rupert, and had solemnly promised to look after him, so she did not even think about leaving the safe haven of her grandfather's house. She burst through the worn wooden gate, running pell-mell down the street despite the sun beating down and no comforting breeze to soothe her warming face.

 Although she was shouting in annoyance, chasing Rupert at first was like a fun game and the little girl hardly noticed the streets that she was racing through, the familiar houses soon turning into blurs of colour before her speeding form.

Eventually though, Alice began to feel extremely hot and out of breath, deciding that the game had gone on for long enough. She gave a valiant leap and swooped down, picking up the puppy and smiling at his wagging tail and lolling tongue.

 

"Rupert, you've been a bad boy. Just you _wait_ til I tell Grandad!" 

 

The puppy simply yapped contentedly in her arms and Alice sighed in mock annoyance, deciding to carry the naughty dog back home to avoid another chase. But, as Alice turned around to survey the street, she realised with a jolt that she couldn't quite remember which way she had come from. Panic began to seep in, as sure as the sweat caused by her frantic running, causing her to feel very apprehensive.

 Of course, she knew the road that her grandfather lived on as she visited him quite often, but as she looked around she noticed that she did not recognise this row of sweet little houses at all. She nervously went down the road, hoping wildly that she might see a sign or a helpful looking person to ask for directions, but all that she found was a well worn old sign proclaiming that she was close to 'Fitton Airfield.'

 Alice knew that her grandfather had worked there years ago as when she had been much younger and unable to sleep he often told her wonderfully absurd tales about his time there, tales that she requested every single time she had visited until they had gradually faded in her mind, half remembered and sadly vague. Grandad had promised to take her there for a visit, but they hadn't gotten round to it yet and Alice knew she must have run through many streets to have ended up all the way here. 

 

She was lost.

 

It was a horrible feeling, and Rupert gave a little whine as Alice clung on to him, the only familiar thing in this strange street. She was a big girl now, and it would only be pathetic to cry, but even so Alice could feel the useless tears threatening as she realised how angry her grandad would be when he found out she had ignored his one rule: don't leave the garden. She couldn't help it; one more look down the unfamiliar street caused her to let out a mighty sniff, burying her face in her fluffy little puppy's dark fur and stopping outside one of the houses. She remained there for a few moments until a softly spoken voice floated towards her as if carried on a breeze.

 

"Excuse me, I don't mean to bother you, but are you alright?"

 Alice looked up wildly for the source of the voice, her face still shining with her fallen tears. As if they had just spotted them, the voice turned flustered.

 "Oh gosh, I'm being silly- you obviously aren't. Oh! And you have a little puppy too. Are you lost?"

 

The little girl finally located the source of the voice; in the garden behind her there was an elderly man on a deckchair, an elderly man with the kindest face she had ever seen. Her grandad Karl was of course the Best Grandad in the World, but this concerned looking person looked exactly like the kind of old man you saw on cards, in movies. He had rosy cheeks and wrinkles, but the most prominent were the laughter lines around his mouth and eyes, lending him a genial complexion as if he was only moments away from laughter. For the moment, however, it was set in an expression of concern.

 The way he sprung up from his chair hinted at a bustle of energy that betrayed his elderly physique, and he hovered on the other side of the gate to her. Alice noted that he was wearing a garish checked shirt and a yellow waistcoat and concluded that he was quite simply the most astonishing old man that she had ever seen in her life; she was quite wordless and more than a little intimidated. 

 But there was also a sort of familiarity about him that she couldn't quite place which nagged at the back of her mind, as she was sure that she should be able to remember such a recognisable man. Irritatingly, her mind at the moment was blank despite her attempts at dredging up the elusive memory.

 After a few moments of staring she remembered that this funny old man had asked her a question and she tried to answer, unable to take her eyes of the vibrant waistcoat.

 

 "Yes, I'm-m lost. Rupert ran away and I left my house and I don't know where to _go_ -"

 She didn't want to cry again as she knew that it sometimes annoyed adults, but this old man's face only showed concern. He dithered by the gate, seeming slightly unsure.

 "Oh dear, oh dear. It's _horrible_ being lost! You know, once I accidentally got lost in France when I was trying to find the Eiffel tower because I thought it was only down the road but Mum _must_ have given me the wrong map because I ended up underground and it was really dark and smelly and-"

 

He shook himself, seeing the little girl staring at him agog. He had forgotten how much he rambled sometimes, as he had not had the chance for a while, and let out a reassuring smile.

  "Sorry, I do go on sometimes. Anyway, if you're lost I can try and help you if you'd like? I mean, I have a telephone and I could get you a drink- it's awfully hot today." 

 

Alice hesitated, remembering her parents' warnings about going into a complete stranger's house. But this man was so nice, and for some reason seemed to emanate a complete sense of trust and truthfulness. She was torn between heeding her parents and solving her situation, and she knew she needed help. 

 

"I'm not sure whether I should…"

 The old man, understanding her hesitancy, leaned down with his arms resting on the gate, his mouth set in a comforting and understanding smile. He spoke kindly, but not condescendingly.

 "Tell you what, how about I ring up your parents? Then I can chat to them so they know where you are?"

 The thought of her Grandad talking to this odd man was comforting, and she was glad he had suggested it. Alice wasn't a shy child usually; she had often been told that she had inherited her grandfather's chatterbox nature. Now they had started to speak and this man just seemed so kind she felt more relaxed and less cautious than she had at first.

 

"You need to ring up my Grandad, he's the one that lives in Fitton. On Kilburn road?"

 The man's eyes lit up as if a sudden memory had occurred to him, and he peered down at her closely.

 "I _think_ I know someone who lives there! Um, oh who was it now? Gah, my memory was never brilliant-"

"Well, my granddad's called Karl-"

 Arthur's face cracked immediately into a huge smiling, shocking her with its brilliance.

 "Karl! Karl from ATC! And you're his _granddaughter_ , oh my!" 

 Relief flooded through alice as she registered the fact that this stranger knew her grandfather.

 "You know Grandad?"

"Yes, we sort of worked together. I haven't seen him in _years_ though. Wow!" 

"I'll come inside then."

"Brilliant." The man held open the gate for her and smiled benignly down, shaking his head in wonder. "I'm Arthur, by the way."

 

Again, she had that niggle of familiarity, but she still couldn't place it. Perhaps her grandfather had mentioned this Arthur before, but she was going to have to wait until later to quiz him about it. He led her to a door which was painted in an even brighter yellow than his waistcoat, and she immediately thought of cheery daffodils and tweeting canaries. Arthur spotted her delighted expression and grinned.

 "Yes, it's great isn't it? Ski-, Ski-, _someone_ told me I shouldn't paint the whole house yellow but I really wanted to. Ah well, I like it how it is." 

 Alice noticed that his cheerful expression had faltered slightly, and noticing this dip in his happiness she brightened her voice.

 "It's lovely. Do you have any lemonade?"

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

The inside of the house was just as pleasant as Alice expected it to be, full of brightly patterned wallpaper and squishy looking chairs, but there was an oddly melancholy air about it that didn't seem to suit the man at all. He appeared so energetic outside that it seemed he should have filled the whole house up with his presence, but as soon as he got in he seemed to shrink, to lose a bit of his exuberance. Seemingly out of habit his eyes flickered to a picture on the wall, and she saw the skin around his eyes tighten as if what he saw pained him. But he didn't say anything and just carried on walking, his eyes focused resolutely on the hallway in front of him. Alice stood on her tiptoes to get a better view but she was just too short to see the picture; all she could make out was a flash of ginger hair and a bright smile. 

 

Arthur led her into a sweet little kitchen which contained wallpaper with lemons on it of all things, and he drew out a chair for Alice and bowed with a majestic little sweep, making her giggle. She settled herself on the chair and watched as Arthur bustled around the kitchen, searching for glasses for their drinks. It was amusing to watch him bobbing up and down on his toes, humming a merry tune with his grey hair swinging as he moved. He didn't seem to complain about his aches and pains like her own grandfather, in fact Arthur seemed to be immune to any of the grumbles that the elderly usually had. With a whistle, he placed a tall glass in front of Alice, complete with ice and a cocktail umbrella which bobbed up and down in the drink. Arthur had an identical beverage and clanked his glass against hers.

 

"To the sun! I don't see it much any more. Your lovely little puppy's out in the back garden, is that alright?"

"Yeah, as long as he can't get out."

"I've made sure of it. Gosh, I used to have a little dog _years_ _ago_ now. She was so fluffy and adorable…Snoopadoop! That's right." He seemed lost for the moment in his recollections. "Maybe I should get another." 

 Alice let him stare out of the window for a few minutes, politely sipping her lemonade which was so lemony she suspected he had made it himself; it was delicious. After a little while she thought she should probably say something.

 "Um, Mr Arthur? Do you have, I mean I don't mean to interrupt you, but do you have a telephone?

 Arthur jumped, shaking his head as if to rid it of unwanted thoughts.

 "Sorry! I get like that sometimes, well…ever since…but it doesn't matter. Yes, I do have a phone- a mobile phone actually. I think I left it in the other room."

"Do you not have a landline?"

"No I…turned it off." He seemed to blush slightly as Alice looked up at him, bemused.

"But why would you do that? What if someone wanted to speak to you?"

 Arthur sighed.

 "I suppose I didn't want people to speak to me."

"Why?"

"They were making me…sad. Anyway, I'll just pop into next door and have a look around, give me a second-"

 

Without a further explanation the funny old man prised himself off of the chair and hurried into the living room next door; it was very strange, but his cheery demeanour once again seemed to be wavering due to some unspoken thought. Looking briefly at the dusty handle of the back door, Alice got the impression that Arthur didn't leave the house often, and she burned with curiosity as it seemed impossible to her that someone would confine themselves to their home. 

 

Still sipping her drink, she looked around at the comfortable kitchen noticing cups lying around in pairs with one full of cold tea and one empty, some cards that were on top of a cupboard which she couldn't quite make out and too many chairs for just one person. She wondered if Arthur lived alone or whether he would introduce her to his partner, but she had a funny feeling that this kind old man somehow lived alone. She did not get a chance to muse for long, as soon enough Arthur strode back into the kitchen, holding a little silver phone in triumph.

 

"I found it! Oh, I feel a bit nervous for some reason- I haven't spoken to Karl for so long!" The wordless 'or anyone else really' hung in the air between them, but Arthur ignored it.  "I wonder if he remembers me?"

"I'm sure he does."

"Hmm, do you know what helps me get rid of being nervous? _Ice cream._ Fancy some?"

 

The kitchen was very hot and the idea was indeed tantalising, so Alice nodded ferociously. Arthur placed the phone in her hands and asked her to type the number while he bustled around finding waffle cones and ice cream from the freezer. When he handed her a cone complete with sprinkles, a flake and a smiley face drawn in strawberry sauce she realised with a burst of remembrance why he seemed so familiar.

 

"You're the ice cream man!" Alice shouted. 

"Excuse me?" 

"The _ice cream man_! I remember, you used to have a van which was painted like an aeroplane! Grandad told me you made the best ice cream in Fitton. There was another man too, I can't quite remember what he-"

 Alice stopped talking immediately, horrified at the tears that were beginning to form in the old man's eyes. He looked down at her, silent, and she realised that something she had said must have upset him terribly.

 "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean-"

" _Martin._ He was called Martin."

 

Suddenly, it all made sense; the amount of cups, the cards on which she could now make out dour pictures of flowers and adorned with many messages of 'With greatest sympathy', the sadness she had felt permeating the house. This man had obviously lost someone quite close to him, and Alice felt cruel to have brought the subject up at all, especially as she had never really seen an adult cry before.

 

"Mr Arthur, I'm so sorry!"

 Despite his tears, he gave her a sort of rueful smile, wiping the tears away.

 "Sorry, sorry, everyone's sorry. _I'm_ the one who should be apologising, Alice. It's not your fault one little bit, and I shouldn't be getting upset; it's been a little while now." 

 Even with Arthur's heartfelt reassurance, Alice felt too awkward to say anything else. Sensing her discomfort, Arthur reached for the mobile and spoke kindly even though his eyes still shone.

 "How about I ring your Grandad? He must be worried sick by now.

"Ok. I put the number in."

 

Arthur clicked a button and held the phone up to his ear, waiting for the dialling tone to stop. After a few rings, a familiar voice answered, sounding beside itself with worry.

 

"Hello, hello? Is that you Alice?"

 "Hi Karl, it's me, Arthur Shappey."

 There was a briefly shocked silence, then Carl's voice exploded.

 " _Arthur Shappey_? From MJN? Oh my god, it's been _years_ you old dog! Why on earth are _you_ ringing up?"

"Your granddaughter was lost and she appeared on my doorstep- I thought I should bring her in and ring home for her. She's perfectly safe here, I've gotten her some ice cream."

 "Oh Arthur, you saviour! I thought I saw her running in the garden but I didn't realise she'd gone down the street. Is she alright?"

 "Yeah, she's completely fine. I just thought it would be better if I rang up. Do you want to come and pick her up?"

 

Alice could just about hear her granddad's voice, and she followed their conversation quietly, making no interruption. But, the longer she sat there listening to their conversation, the more animated Arthur became. It appeared that when he had people to talk to, the old man simply shone with eagerness. And, seeing how enthusiastic Arthur was about speaking to people gave Alice an impression of the absolute loneliness he must be feeling at the moment. She looked around at the lovely but sad kitchen, wondering if this was all the old man really saw anymore, and she felt a strong emotion take hold of her. She couldn't go back to her granddad's knowing she was leaving this poor lonely man behind, and she spoke up.

 

"Mr Arthur, can I please speak to Grandad?"

 He looked a little startled at the unexpected interruption but dutifully handed her the phone, watching her carefully as she put on her brightest voice.

 "Hi Grandad!"

 "Alice! Blimey, what have I told you about leaving the garden?"

 "Sorry Grandad, it's just Rupert ran away and I couldn't let him get lost!"

 "That bloody dog will be the end of me, he's already eaten one of my slippers. Right, do you want me to come for you now?"

 Alice hesitated, not wanting to intrude on this man's life, but knowing someone had to do something. 

 "Er, actually Grandad, is it ok if I stay here for a little bit longer?" Arthur looked down, shocked at her words, "Only Mr. Arthur has ice cream and his house is really interesting and he seems _really_ nice."

 

Karl was surprised that Alice was comfortable at staying at a complete stranger's house, but then he did remember Arthur being a particularly easy going and welcoming person. Still, though, it was a little rude to expect someone to look after his granddaughter for him. On the other end of the line, he bit his lip.

 

"Alice, I can't really ask Arthur to look after you-"

 This time, Arthur spoke up, standing next to the phone so he could be heard.

 "Oh, it's no bother, no bother at all! I would be happy to!" 

 "You sure, Arthur? I mean, I'm supposed to be looking after her but I've got some food shopping to do and I know Alice hates that. Just like me." His voice turned a little guilty, "I could watch the footie too."

 "It's absolutely no bother at all, it's actually quite nice to have the company."

"Alright then, if you're sure."

 Alice shouted into the phone before handing it back to Arthur. 

 "Thank you Grandad!"

 "Agh! Anytime sweetheart." Then, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him, Karl's voice changed from long suffering to curious, as if he had just worked something out. "Hey, Arthur? Where's Martin? I was there at your wedding, god, that's _years_ ago now!"

 Arthur froze, his face draining of colour, and Alice winced, knowing that Karl couldn't possibly know about Martin but feeling Arthur's pain all the same. When he spoke, there was a visible tremor in the hand that held the phone, but his voice was very, very calm.

 "Didn't you hear the news?"

 Hearing Arthur's tone, Karl's voice grew cautious.

 "No…did something happen?" 

 Arthur sighed, delivering his words with the air of a man who had been saying the same thing for a while now and still hated it as much as the first time he had to say the horrible words. 

 "H-he's gone, Karl. The doctors said there was nothing we could do."

 "Oh _Arthur_ , I'm so sorry."

 "It's alright. Well, it's not alright, but I've had a few months now. It's not getting easier, but I can manage it." His eyes swept the dusty kitchen, at the many cups littered around and unkept surfaces. "I'm managing."

 "If this is a bad time-"

 "No, I'm enjoying Alice being here. She's been very lovely."

 "If you're sure? I'm _so_ sorry I didn't know, I would've come around, sent a card-"

 " _Please_ don't send a card." Arthur seemed to realise he'd spoken too harshly, "I-I mean, a chat would be nicer."

 "Ok. Well…I'll see you later." 

 "Yeah, see you later Karl." 

 

 Arthur clicked a button on the phone and placed it gingerly on the table, staring as if fearing it would bite him. He had not spoken to anyone on the phone for so long because it always led to the same outcome, with people offering condolences and him trying to fake his old cheeriness; in the end he had stopped picking up the phone and eventually people had stopped calling. 

 

That had been two months ago and the house had been blessedly silent, but without the well-meaning but frustrating voices babbling at him Arthur had been left to wallow in a beautiful old house and no one to share it. It was so peculiar, as these last few months had seemed like a hazy dream in which he had forced himself to do the same routine: get out of bed, avoid the photographs on the walls, make two cups of tea, don't think about it, for god's sake don't think about it.

 

 And so, he had shut out the world and pretended nothing had changed, because surely pretending would stop the pain from overwhelming him? Well, that was the theory but all Arthur felt was numbness. Numbness, and the desire to keep himself hidden, to engulf himself in the abyss that was his home.

 

 But now, seeing this young girl was slowly causing him to wake up, to slowly remember that outside of these dusty walls there was a world still moving and people still living and breathing. In the back of his mind he knew that what he was doing was cowardly, and he needed to wake up from the nightmare he had been trapped in, but to do that he had to confront the one thing that he had been resolutely trying to ignore for a very long time, and he wasn't sure if he was strong enough. 

 

Alice had long finished her ice cream, and she was perturbed to see the old man looking rather lost, his vibrant attire seeming oddly muted in the dully lit kitchen.

 

"Would you like a cup of tea, Mr Arthur?"

 "Tea?"

 "Yeah, my Mum always makes it for Dad when he gets upset. _I_ know how to make it." 

 Arthur smiled at her proud declaration.

 "Okey dokey, a cup of tea would be lovely, Alice. Here, I'll help."

 

He bustled over to the draining board to wash two of the cups which were lying there, tipping the one which was full of cold tea into the sink. As Alice watched the brown liquid go down the plughole she couldn't resist asking.

 

"Mr Arthur? Why do you make two cups of tea?"

 "Because, Alice, I only know the measurements to make two."

 

She stared at him uncomprehendingly, and Arthur wondered when exactly it had become so easy to bend the truth. He had always been teased at MJN for that particular vice of his, and yet he could not bring it upon himself to tell this child that if he made two cups he could almost kid himself that Martin was in the other room and he was just waiting for his partner to come into the kitchen and retrieve his cup. Almost. 

 

When the tea had brewed and Alice was just putting the milk in, Arthur's eyes caught the multitude of sympathy cards stuffed messily on his cupboards. As he looked at these well meaning but horrible reminders of his loss, he couldn't stand being in the prison of the kitchen any longer. He knew they were evidence of peoples' kindness, yet every time he had gone to the front door and seen _another_ envelope lying there he had wanted to burn it, to tear it apart, to do anything other than read their sadness to add to the restless cacophony that was his own emotions. Turning away from the offending objects, he appealed to the young girl on her tiptoes.

 

"Alice, shall we go into the front room? I mean, it's alright if you want to stay in here because the garden does look lovely out of that window, but there's a really nice and squishy sofa which I think you'd enjoy."

 

Alice nodded, and she followed Arthur as he started to walk out of the stuffy kitchen. She glanced back at the abandoned cups, the forgotten cards on the bookcase, at the loneliness that pervaded the room, and she was very glad that she had asked to stay and spend some time with this poor, grieving man.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Arthur led the way into the room next to the kitchen, holding both of their cups of tea securely in his hands. The walls were a lovely sort of sky blue reminiscent of the bight sky outside on this hot summers day and the low slung sofas looked just as comfy as Arthur had promised; he put down their cups on a little table and settled down into a squashy armchair next to it with a contented sigh. 

"Would you like me to turn the television on?"

 "No thanks, Mr Arthur. I think I'd prefer to talk."

Alice could be a very shrewd little girl at times, and she couldn't bear to see this nice old man so lost and lonely in his own home. She may have come to this house after finding herself lost in the streets of Fitton, but it seemed that she had found someone who was even more lost than she was. She caught Arthur staring at an armchair at the opposite side of the room, covered in dust and looking like it hadn't been touched in months. She spoke softly.

"That was his chair, wasn't it?"

Their eyes met, and Arthur realised that he was no longer going to be able to flee from the subject which had been trying to avoid for so long. He had ignored well-wishing friends and family; how could it be that a small girl, a stranger, should be the only one he could speak to about this? He remembered a time when he had been so open and happy, and he supposed age and all of its sorrows must have finally taken its toll.

"Yes, I haven't touched it since…well…" 

Arthur couldn't say it again, and Alice could sense that he was teetering on the point of sadness once more and knew that all of this wallowing would do him absolutely no good. It seemed that the only way to break Arthur out of his monotonous life he had built for himself would be to make him feel again, to feel anger and irritation and _anything_ other than this hopeless sadness he had allowed himself to be drawn into. Alice knew that whenever she felt upset it usually helped to have a little shout or a little cry, as it enabled her to put her problems in perspective and get rid of all her useless emotions. She spoke delicately, knowing Arthur was likely to be sensitive to anything she would say next. 

 

"It's ok to talk about it you know. My grandma died when I was only a baby but my Grandad still talks about her all the time. He gets sad, but I think it makes him happier to talk about her rather than to forget." She paused, then summoned her courage and plunged in, "It won't do you any good to try and forget him."

 And with that she knew she had done it. It seemed that she had touched a nerve, as Arthur registered what she said in utter shock, his face at first pale, then beginning to redden.

 "Forget-" He looked bewildered, "I'm not forgetting him! It would be _impossible_ to forget Martin, it would be _wrong_ -" Arthur seemed to ignore all pretense at calmness, his voice rising in volume until he was practically shouting. Alice remained calm, drawing on a stubbornness that she had been told she had inherited from her grandfather.

 "Then why have you turned the phones off? And I saw you walk down the corridor trying not to look at the photographs on the wall. I bet you do that every day." 

 

For the first time, Arthur looked rather frightening, his eyes glowering in utmost anger and his hands clenched tightly. Alice could not have known it, but in that moment his resemblance to Carolyn was startling. But she stared him down evenly, and Arthur realised with a jolt what she had done. He _had_ been forgetting Martin, had been trying to pave over the pain of losing him by drawing on the blankness of mind he had so relied on in the past. Arthur was disgusted with himself. He had been forgetting Martin, the one thing in his life which he had and still cared most about.

 

Slowly, the redness on his face which had appeared due to his anger receded until he once more only had ruddy cheeks, and he looked more like the sweet old man she had first met rather than the thunderous man who had been staring at her in fury. His eyes turned kind again, and he looked apologetically at the calm girl who had her arms crossed in front of him.

 

"I'm sorry for shouting, Alice. It's just, it hurts so much to think of him."

 "But maybe that's what you need to do, Mr Arthur. Let it hurt, and then maybe you'll begin to feel happy again. I mean, I know Grandad's still sad but when he talks about Nana he's only ever smiling."

 

One thing that Alice really admired about Arthur was that not once had he treated her like a child as some condescending adults deigned to do. In some ways, when she looked at his face shining with hope and sadness, with his rosy cheeks and vibrant clothes she almost felt like the adult who was comforting an infinitely sad child. His voice was a whisper, seeking assurance.

 

"It gets better?"

 "Maybe." 

 

Arthur gave her a sad little smile and she returned it, glad that she had at least managed to make him try and break out of the little bubble he had created for himself. He seemed like such an affectionate old man and it really was a travesty for him to be locked away from the world which could probably benefit from his kindness. Alice was so happy she had managed to make this new friend, and before Arthur knew it she had jumped onto the sofa and was giving him a massive bear hug, her small arms clutched around his lovely waistcoat. 

"Alice!" He spluttered, "I, um, well!"

He smelt exactly like a grandad would, comforting and sweet, and she did not let go even though she knew it would look odd to be hugging a virtual stranger. But it was obvious that Arthur hadn't had any physical contact for a very long time, and after a few moments hesitation he hugged her back, his arms a reassuring warmth. Her suspicions were true; Arthur had not touched anyone ever since he had shut himself in his house, and it felt brilliant beyond words to have this little girl show him such kindness, to remind him that although his world might have lost its light, there were still some things that could glow. Perhaps not as brightly as the man who he had loved so much, but they glowed nonetheless. 

 They hugged for a few moments more and Alice spotted that he had little silver cufflinks in the shape of otters on his sleeves, and for some reason the image made her giggle, her face pressed into his front on a vain attempt to stop the laughter from escaping. Arthur joined in, and he hardly registered that it was the first true giggle he had uttered for months; it felt wonderful. He squeezed his arms tighter, his voice breathless and entirely sincere.

"Thank you. _Thank you_." 

 They remained like that for a few moments until they broke away, each still smiling with silly little grins. Alice pointed at his sleeves. 

 "I like your otters." 

Arthur held them up, waving the little silver otters around so they caught the light which danced off the smoothly cut shapes.

"You do? They were a wedding present from Martin. I got him ones with geese on. His _face_!"

He laughed again at the sudden memory, and Alice laughed with him although of course she couldn't share in the memory. She thought about this man who had obviously meant so much to Arthur, and she burned with curiosity again.

"Mr Arthur, could I possibly see a picture of Martin? I'm too small to see the ones in the hallway." 

Arthur was also hungry to look at a picture of Martin after denying himself for so long, and he heaved his previously weary bones off of the sofa, now thrumming with a burst of energy. He hummed as he retrieved a large photo album which had lain unopened on his bookcase for quite a while; he had been ignoring the lure of pictures of Martin because he feared that if he started he just wouldn't be able to stop. But now he couldn't wait, and he passed it to Alice so he could take a sip of his tea, a little colder than he might have liked but somehow tasting wonderful under the influence of his new emotions. Alice stroked the embossed book, the silver words 'Martin and Arthur' feeling smooth under her hands. She opened it carefully, reverently, but couldn't suppress a scream as something hidden inside fell out and thudded into her lap. Arthur whipped his head away from his cup towards the sound of her yelp.

 

"What's wrong? I don't look too horrific, do I?"

 "Arthur! Oh Mr Arthur, I've found something! It-it just fell out of this photo album!"

 

There was beat of silence as Arthur processed what she had said. He had never left anything in that photo album, he was sure of it, and he hadn't touched it since Martin had died. So that must mean…but he couldn't be sure...

Arthur approached in trepidation, unable to stop his legs from shaking. In Alice's hand she held an envelope, and on the front was achingly familiar handwriting that almost made the old man's heart stop: _For Arthur._   

Alice passed it to him wordlessly, and he fumbled in his pocket for his glasses. When they were securely on his nose he began to open the letter, dreading so much the inevitable disappointment, but hoping, hoping. Alice watched carefully as his eyes roved the page, eagerly drinking in the familiar script.

 

 

 

_Dear Arthur,_

 

_I'm writing this letter because I'm beginning to feel rather unwell, and I can see in your eyes that you know it too, even though we won't talk about it. We talk about the weather, about G-ERTI, about anything other than that, but I understand why. I've never been particularly good with words, so I thought it would be safer to write this all down rather than stutter at you like I'm always in danger of doing. Luckily, I think old age has made me a little more eloquent- perhaps it's the memory of Douglas which comes now and then. You know, I almost hope that I'll write this silly little letter and it will all be for nothing and we'll find it together in a few years and laugh at how foolish we both were. But I saw the doctor's face, and I think I know._

 

_The thing is Arthur, is that there are a few things I feel like I need to say, and I don't think I'll ever get the courage to say them in real life even though I mean them with every beat of my heart, with every time I see you standing there trying to help and knowing you can't. Maybe it's cowardly to hide this letter, but I think that if what I think is going to happen will, you're going to need a little surprise to make the world seem brighter again._

 

_The first thing is you, Arthur. I know that people often call you the happiest man in the world, but knowing you, being allowed this mad, wonderful chance at being with you all of these years has made me wonder if I could battle you for that title. I know you would give it up without a second thought, and I don't think that you know how wonderful and unique that makes you. You deserved riches, Arthur, deserved to be famous and known and yet you settled on a funny little life with a neurotic little pilot that could only offer you a small and simple life. Luckily for me, small and simple is all you've ever needed, and I've never wanted anything else._

 

_The second thing is family, Arthur. I've always loved my family, but we never really saw eye to eye and I went through a phase of wondering if I would ever really belong anywhere. I wanted you to know that family is what you make it, and I would choose MJN again and again, and I would scream that from the rooftops if I had to. Whenever we used to go on trips and people asked me if I missed my family, I would always smile and tell them that I couldn't possibly miss them because they were with me. Always._

 

_I miss Carolyn and Douglas more than words can say, and it's only because of you that I got through those dark years; I think you deserve to know that I would have struggled to ever be happy again without you. It's so strange-  I would give anything to hear Carolyn shout at me, for Douglas to say something devastatingly sarcastic, but I understand that that time has gone now. Even though we have long since had our last ride on G-ERTI, I can revisit all of the good times in my memories and it's enough._

 

_Because that's it Arthur. You are the happiest, most wonderful human being I've ever known and ever will know, but I can already see the sadness creeping in, a cloud blotting out the sun. We always thought you were immune to the sadness of us mere mortals, but Douglas saw it and that's why he came to stay with us for a while, then when he was gone I saw it too. Memories are all we have left now, Arthur, and you know I would hate for you to lose your brightness because of me. I want you to promise me that if you have found this letter you will smile again, that you will allow the world to see your beautiful smile and not feel guilty because I won't be there to share it._

 

_I know it seems impossible because I can't ever bear the thought of losing you. But Arthur, I want you to laugh again and talk about ridiculous things and I want you to remember me as I was, happy and not ill and snappish as I fear I've become.  Look through this album, tell everyone our memories- I want you to share our tales of a crackpot old company and four old friends who loved each other but never needed to say it._

 

_You once told me that true happiness could be found in the simple things, in a warm bath, tossing apples. I hope you realise that I only knew true happiness whenever I saw you._

 

_Now, I can hear you bustling around making some sort of special hot chocolate which I should probably prepare for, so I'm going to have to stuff this into the envelope before you come in. but I'm going to hold you so tight and breathe in your goodness, just like I've done everyday since we first kissed._

 

 

_I love you Arthur, more than I ever thought I could ever love anything, and I'm sure we'll meet again._

 

_Martin xxxxxx_

 

 

 

One of the x's that Martin had written spread as a small teardrop fell on them, the whole letter shaking in Arthur's hands. He didn't want it to end, he wanted to read these hidden words of Martin for ever and ever but he couldn't help his eyes flash across the page, reading the words of the man he so loved. Alice watched in horror as the kindly old man cried, as she couldn't remember ever seeing an adult cry and felt guilty that she had been the one to cause it. It was certainly an odd sort of crying though, because as Arthur lifted off his glasses to wipe his eyes she saw a smile on his face as he whispered.

 

"Oh, _Martin_."

 "Mr Arthur? Was it…a good letter?"

 "It was," she had never seen his eyes sparkle so much, "The most beautiful, wonderful, sad and _brilliant_ letter I've ever had."

 "But then if it was good why are you crying?"

 "Alice." Arthur leaned down with a benevolent expression, clutching the letter to his chest. "Sometimes when you love someone and you miss them it can make you cry. But I'm not really sad, because I love him too much for that. One day I'm sure you'll understand what I mean."

 "I don't think I'm going to ever have a happy cry because of a _boy_."

 "One day, if you're very, _very_ lucky you might." 

 

A tinkling laugh met her indignant expression, as Arthur remembered being her age and thinking that he was never going to fall in love with anyone, no sir. Alice stared down at the letter, wanting dearly to know what words had moved Arthur so much but knowing even in her young age that perhaps some things should probably remain private. Arthur was rereading parts of the letter now, a faraway expression on his face and yet she could sense a certain lightness about him that was so different from the gloom that had pervaded the house. She couldn't know that although the letter had stabbed Arthur right in his heart and had been a fresh and painful reminder of his loss, Martin's hidden words had offered a certain finality which said 'I may be gone, but I'm still here if you remember me.' 

Because Arthur _felt_ him. When Martin died he thought he was alone, was stuck in a dark and beautiful house with people who were trying to help but were mere whispers fighting the great flood of grief which had overwhelmed him as soon as he had let go of the hand in the hospital bed. But now, after reading the letter where a little mark of Martin Crieff still remained in the world, Arthur could remember him pottering around the house, laughing at Arthur's chattering and sitting in his favourite chair with his husband. He could feel Martin in the aviation books on the bookcase, in the photographs that adorned his walls that he had been avoiding for weeks now, in this old house which they had shared for so long. Now he had read this letter, it almost seemed that Martin had gone away on a long trip without Arthur just like in the past, and the smiling old man knew that one day he would be joining him. 

And this girl, this little girl who seemed to tumble from his past had broken through his lethargy, through the sadness that had threatened to overtake him after Martin had gone and he was just so grateful that she had wandered outside of his gate. He saw her glance at the photo album in her hand and look away quickly as if afraid Arthur would shout at her, but he leaned over in his chair and pointed at the first picture.

"That's Martin, Alice. Or Skipper, as I used to call him."

Alice peered down at the photo and saw a picture of Arthur looking quite similar to how he was now with his arms around another old man. She was surprised to see that the man was quite a lot shorter than Arthur and very skinny; she had almost expected another jovial and bearlike old man to suit the lovely one sat next to her. But it was obvious even to her that they were in love, Arthur staring up at the camera with a silly smile and Martin staring up at the man next to him, his large lips set in another happy grin and staring at his husband in clear adoration. 

For the first time in months, looking at the photographs didn't cause a stabbing in Arthur's heart, and he took a great delight in pointing ones out to Alice and adding a running commentary, grinning all the while. She also had a great time pouring over the photographs and the longer they sat there the more animated Arthur seemed to become, bolstered by the letter and the enthusiasm of his new friend. Alice, peering at a picture of Martin and Arthur sat in their garden spoke excitedly.

"Why did you call him Skipper?"

 "Well, he was a pilot, the _Captain_ even. The Skipper of our aeroplane, good old G-ERTI. Would you like to see a picture of us all on the aeroplane?"

Alice nodded eagerly, and Arthur reached towards the bookcase, retrieving a battered old photo album that he had hidden for so long. He flicked it open, and Alice gasped in delight as she spotted a picture of Arthur as a young man, looking sweet in a red uniform and black waistcoat and with bouncing brown curls. He was stood next to an old lady who looked vaguely familiar.

 

"Who's she?"

 "That's my Mum."

 "Ah, I thought she might be. You look a bit similar."

 "Do we?" Arthur sounded delighted. "It's probably because I'm all old and grey now, though she would probably kill me if she heard me say that. She used to be the boss, you see."

 

He pointed at a tall, impressive looking man who was giving a sly grin to the camera. "And that's Douglas, he was so clever and sneaky and tried to pretend he was above us all but we all knew how he really felt."

 Alice liked the look of him, and was starting to realise that she had a vague recollection of all these names, as she was sure that her grandad must have mentioned to her at some point; she wished she hadn't been so forgetful and resolved to listen to Arthur's stories with utmost care. Her eyes flickered to the short man stood next to Arthur and she giggled.

"He's ginger!"

 "Yes, isn't it lovely? I was a bit sad when it went grey, but then again Skipper always had lovely hair no matter what colour it went."

 "He looks cute."

Arthur was almost moved to tears again, thinking about how indignant Martin would be if he heard a small child proclaiming him to be cute, how red his face would get and how Arthur would kiss him until he stopped complaining. Alice saw his lip wobble, and she took his hand. 

"Grandad used to tell me some stories about when he worked at the airfield, but I've kind of forgotten them."

Arthur stared at her, at the photographs in her lap and at the sign he could see from his window pointing the way to the airfield. When they had gotten too old to fly, he and Martin had decided they still wanted to be close to it, and it was a comfort to still be able to see the sign even after all these years. He bit his lip.

 

"Well, I suppose I could…Alice, would you like to hear some stories before your Grandad comes to pick you up? He might be a while."

 

Alice bounced on the sofa feeling excited, but before she could say anything the air was filled with the sound of barking. As if summoned by her excitement Rupert, who seemed to realise he had been forgotten in the tumultuous afternoon, bounded in and started running around their legs, his little paws pattering on the carpet. Arthur swiped the excitable puppy up and rubbed his belly, grinning when the puppy squirmed with happiness.

 

"Just like Snoopadoop." 

 

He set the dog on Alice's lap and drew his chair close to hers. She rested her head on her hands and looked eagerly up at Arthur, and he smiled at her, then at the photographs he could still see. Martin grinned at him from one, and Arthur could almost feel his encouragement. He cleared his throat.

 

"Well, I think we had better start with Abu Dhabi…" 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this, my friends, is the story which made me cry when writing it. 
> 
> Character death is a difficult thing to write, because how can it end in happiness? But I hope it's clear to see that Arthur finally realised that he could still be happy with the memory of Martin, after all they had a wonderfully long life together. It just took Alice to make him see that, and after her visit she made sure Arthur was never lonely again, right until the end.
> 
> The title for this fic comes from the song "It Never Stops." by The Bad Books, a lovely little song which fuelled my Skipthury needs. Arthur feared that his grief would never stop, but then he remembered that his love never would.
> 
> Have a nice day :)

**Author's Note:**

> I'll upload the next chapter soonish, please don't hate me!


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